


we desire what we loathe

by crookedspoon



Series: distance between us (expanded) [1]
Category: DCU, Teen Titans (Comics)
Genre: Blackmail, Introspection, M/M, Mentor/Protégé, Sexual Content, Stream of Consciousness, Video Cameras
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-02 10:42:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23970013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crookedspoon/pseuds/crookedspoon
Summary: Dick shouldn't want this, but he does.
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson
Series: distance between us (expanded) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1749685
Comments: 6
Kudos: 93
Collections: Id Pro Quo 2020





	we desire what we loathe

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FleetSparrow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FleetSparrow/gifts).



Dick's eyes keep flashing over to the camera. It's discreetly placed, so as not to upset or distract him too much, but Dick can't help focusing on it. Just like the camera's lens focuses on him.

Dick is sweating. He's close to tears. Again. At this point, he might be more liquid than anything else. Pre-come is pulsing out of his cock as though it would never end, creating a puddle on the sheets beneath him. The corners of his mouth are wet with drool.

Just a little more, he tells himself. He can handle this.

He's been handling it for hours. 

Shame burns in his cheeks and through his whole body. He would like to bury his face beneath the blanket, away from view, so that no one would be able to tell that it's him. But that is not the point of this. The point is to _let_ everyone see. That it's him, that he wants this, that he's the one who initiated it.

That he chose _this_ over his friends.

It used to be that he chose this _for_ his friends, to ensure their safety. Now, he's not so sure anymore. Slade barely needs to remind Dick of what is going to happen to his friends if he doesn't follow orders; Dick does what is expected of him without a fuss, as if Slade's approval meant anything to him. As if Slade's _gentleness_ meant anything to him.

In some ways, it would be easier if Slade made it hurt. If he took him by force and _didn't_ spend so much time making Dick writhe on his fingers until the pressure inside Dick became so much he _wanted_ Slade to let him come. 

It's sickening.

Sickening how easily Dick fell victim to it. How he can no longer even tell if the sounds he's making are real or pretend. Or how he almost doesn't care anymore if his friends can see him like this. Riding Slade's cock. Fucking himself back against it. Taking it like the good little slut Slade made him become. Whichever way they do it, Dick keeps begging Slade for more.

This is no time for pride, he told himself in the beginning. If his act was not convincing on film, his friends would suffer for it. At first, Dick thought that just meant telling his friends not to worry, that it was his choice to become Slade's apprentice.

He didn't expect Slade to start touching him as he tried to cheerfully address his friends.

"Slade, that's not what we—" he snapped but Slade cut him off with a hand cupping him between his thighs.

Dick was embarrassed to note how used to Slade's touch his body had become. How it needed nothing more to get him hard than the scratch of Slade's beard against his neck or the rumble of Slade's voice, whispering praises into his ear.

"There's a good boy. Let's show your friends how much you _really_ like being my apprentice."

Sex was, of course, part and parcel of Slade's training, no different than martial arts or target practice. He packaged it as preparing Dick for the grim world Dick would enter as Slade's partner.

"If you're going to work for me, I need to make sure you're not going to be a liability. A pretty thing like you is almost sure to be passed around between my enemies until it breaks and spills all my secrets."

Dick expected Slade to take him by force, the way those imagined enemies would take him: hard and fast, with no regard for Dick's body, as if he were a doll made for their pleasure. But Dick was still Slade's apprentice: Slade needed him whole. And since Dick did not share Slade's healing factor that enabled him to recover from being stabbed through the heart, he couldn't be brutally raped every night and expected to heal in time for his next lesson. Slade knew that and seemed to derive pleasure from him differently.

Not that Dick would have been able to fight him off either way. Slade pushed him to the brink of what was humanly possible and at the end of every day, Dick was glad he was still able to breathe, even though it was a near thing.

Dick could barely move after training with Slade from sunrise to sunset, and Slade used that to his advantage. He ate Dick out until the sheets beneath Dick were soggy with precome and Dick passed out from the pleasure of it all. He fingered Dick until the mere suggestion of adding another digit made Dick climax. And when Slade finally slid his cock into Dick's exhausted body, it was slippery and hot and felt so good Dick could do nothing but take it.

His fingers clawed weakly at the sheets. He tried glaring at Slade in the beginning or keeping his moans in check, but he was too drained for even that much. All he did was grunt and drool and feel ashamed. Ashamed for liking it. For not putting up more of a fight, even if it was just for show. For letting Slade inadvertently think that he wanted this, too.

He didn't. He'd accepted it as part of the necessary evil that was training under Slade in order to keep his friends from harm, but that didn't mean he wanted it. Not at first.

Slade had a way of eroding Dick's defenses little by little, until he could no longer tell whether he should want it or not.

The one thing he clung to was that no one would know about this apart from Slade and him. That was his saving grace. He didn't want to think about what his friends would say if they could see him like this, hard and leaking and quivering on Slade's cock.

Would Kory still be able to look at him, Donna be able to speak to him? Would Victor and Raven and Gar still be able to accept him as team leader if they knew how easily he let Slade do with him as he pleased?

If he was ashamed to admit to liking Slade fucking him, he would be mortified to admit that he began looking forward to it at the end of the day. Slade just knew how to make him feel good. The thing that Dick looked foward to most of all was not the fucking, however, it was everything else that came before and after. Slade never had a word of praise during the day when he demanded Dick do this kata or that movement over and over again. He saved it all for when he had Dick naked beneath him and was kneading his tired muscles with oil-slick fingers.

It wasn't even high praise, just an acknowledgement of Dick's effort ("Your form was adequate today. Maybe you're not as hopeless as you first seemed"), but Dick sucked it up nonetheless. More so since it came combined with the massage that was draining the tension from his limbs. 

Still, he'd thought that they'd keep the sex off-camera, that it could remain a shameful secret between only the two of them. Because Slade wouldn't be caught dead with a minor on tape, would he? Wouldn't want to be caught having sex on tape in the first place, regardless of the age of his partner, right?

It had been too much to hope that these things meant anything to Slade. If they did, they seemed to pale in comparison to how much he enjoyed tormenting Dick.

He knew that while Dick would let Slade fuck him without much protest as long as he could be sure no one was watching, Dick would not have an easy time of it if anyone did.

"We're live," Slade murmured against his skin, the scrape of his beard making Dick's legs tremble. "Say hi to your friends."

Dick threw his head back as Slade's fingers penetrated him, and rested it against Slade's shoulder, so his friends wouldn't have to see his face. They could infer from his body language that he wasn't being hurt, that he enjoyed the attention even, but Dick couldn't let them see the expression on his face. It was something he found difficult to control when Slade was fucking him. Inevitably, his concentration would slip, and anyone would be able to read the naked truth written on his features.

That Dick Grayson was a slut who cared more for Slade's cock than he did for saving his friends.

When was the last time he had thought about where they might be held, or if Slade had kept his word and released them since Dick agreed to stay and let Slade mentor him?

Dick grabbed Slade's hair and kissed him. If he was to banish those thoughts from his mind, he needed something else to focus on. He wished it was over already.

"Attaboy," Slade said, his breath hot against Dick's wet lips. "I'll make it quick since you're so agreeable today."

Slade's "quick" was a matter of interpretation. Still, Dick breathed a "thank you" as Slade replaced his fingers with his cock and began stroking him through the fabric of his short shorts. They were rolled over the swell of his ass, just enough for Slade to slide his cock into him, while keeping Dick's balls and his erection trapped in his sweat-damp panties.

It took no time at all for Dick to come with Slade's name on his lips. He was choking back his tears, trying very hard not to imagine the shock and disgust on Kory's face to see him so clearly getting off on his own predicament. 

They had to know he was only doing it for them, they _had_ to – and yet at the same time, that thought brought him no solace.

That night, Dick fell asleep curled against the toilet bowl, with rubbery knees, an empty stomach, and a sour taste in his mouth.

It was one thing to play the hero and do the noble deed of selflessly sacrificing yourself to save your friends, and quite another when that deed was neither noble nor selfless – when it was vile and disgusting and your friends watched it happen. When those same friends would now blame themselves for putting you in a situation where you thought your only option was to submit to save them – and you would blame yourself for submitting and putting _them_ in the position of feeling guilty for what you let happen to you.

Thus, with one decision Dick thought only he himself had to bear, he's created an endless cycle of guilt and blame.

That was then.

Dick didn't spend many nights in the bathroom after that. Though in the beginning he wished he did, so that he would wake up with the toilet bowl near, instead of with Slade curved against him possessively and Slade's cock still lodged in his ass.

Dick felt sick. He felt like crying. But worst of all, he felt aroused. His body enjoyed the sensation of Slade hot and strong against him and inside him. Dread rushed through him to realize the kind of ownership Slade had taken of his body. Dread and a sense of ease – and disgust at that himself for letting himself feel that ease. What the fuck was wrong with him? Slade was not his fucking boyfriend who was cuddling up with him. 

Slade was his abuser who had blackmailed him into having sex with him. 

Yet somehow, that didn't seem to matter to his body. Slade had been treating it well. It was his to do with as he pleased, so why not make it dependent on his touch?

Now, Dick feels empty when Slade is not inside him. There's still shame in that, but the shame has become part of what gets him off. Shame and self-hatred. How could he let this come this far? How could he let his friends witness his descent into becoming Slade's vacant and drooling cocksleeve?

Slade sometimes showed him the videos they made as part of his training, attempting to desensitize him to his shame because "it serves no purpose." Dick belongs to Slade, and as such any feelings of shame are misplaced. 

But watching himself ride Slade's cock as if he wanted nothing else in the world only served to reinforce the negative emotions. He should be stronger than this. He should not want Slade's cock inside him again, making him feel so good. He should...

Beg Slade to let him come. But he's so tired. His voice is hoarse, barely audible. He doesn't have the energy to make it carry.

But still he's grinning. Grinning vacantly into the sheets. Let his friends see how much he loves being fucked within an inch of his life. 

They _should_ know he's getting everything he deserves.


End file.
